


Late Night Office

by ufp13



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*points at title* PWP, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Office

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains the word "bitch" numerous times while probably being the cutest story I've ever written, but there was nothing I could do, the characters just went on and on and on... ah well.

Will Pope needed a bitch, and he needed her now. Not a bitch, though. The bitch. His bitch. Early in their relationship, actually during the time when it could still be called an affair; the word of anger, disrespect had become a term of endearment.

While the love between them had still been tucked away in the shadows, their bond had exceeded the mere one of an affair based on lust by miles. He hated that the thing, the person who mattered most to him was doomed to exist where indecency was hidden, but as she had pointed out, it would be no good for either of them or for their jobs if they uncovered their secret. So they had erected a front of friendship that justified the time they spent together during lunch breaks, after hours – if there even was such a thing for people like them – and whenever they weren’t officially on duty. What had started as frantic fucking to satisfy a mutual need born out of frustration, anger and weariness had developed into something deeper, something more meaningful – unexpectedly so. Whereas he had first only appreciated her for her body that she allowed him to use while she used his in return, he now valued her for her mind and company as well. That was not to say he had never valued her as an officer; he had always done that, no matter how big a pain in his ass she had been at times.

Right now, it was her mind he needed, her instincts as an officer he had come to rely on; he needed her insight, a fresh pair of eyes. Wearily, he pushed the file away from him, threw his glasses on top of it, leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. He had been staring at the pages for hours now and was still none the wiser, closer to a solution to the problem at hand.

The door to his office was opened and then closed again quietly. In, like a cat, slipped Sharon Raydor. At this time of the day – or rather night – she seldom bothered with knocking anymore.

For a long moment, she stayed near the door and watched the man whom this office belonged to, who right now was the picture of exhaustion. She had come to abduct him from his office, to take him home for he apparently didn’t find the way by himself these days. Yesterday like the days before, he had told her to leave, he’d follow soon after only to show up over an hour after she had finally given in and fallen into bed to sleep. Sleep – all she, they seemed to do there anymore. The poor mattress hadn’t seen any action in the last week, and neither had she, much to her dismay. Before she had started this friends-with-benefits thing with Will, she had used to go weeks, months, hell, years if she wanted to be honest, without any action, but ever since they had gotten closer, ever since emotions where involved, she craved a loving touch, his touch.

With determination, she turned the lock, the click of which made him look at her.

“I was just thinking of you.” He smiled. A genuine smile, but laced with fatigue.

“Oh, really? And why would that be, Chief?” She leaned her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

“I need a second opinion on this matter,” he nodded in the direction of the file lying on his desk.

Sighing, she continued to look at him, taking her time to really look at him, then she shook her head and let her jacket slide down her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground without caring about it.

“Captain.” His tone, his expression were strained, stern. However, she wouldn’t abandon her path because of that. Losing her heels on the way, she walked over to him.

“Captain,” he repeated, his mind clinging to the case, refusing to give even a little way to the man who this officer was. It considered her an unwelcome diversion, a danger to duty, and launched an alert, raised the defences. A distant part of his mind protested though, well aware that this woman would never want him to neglect his duty, that she understood the demands of rank. Yet, he remained tense when she sat down on his desk, eyeing him almost predatorily.

As he reached to pick the file up, she slammed her hand down on it before he had done more than touch it. “Oh, no, Chief. You’re exhausted, I can tell by the circles under your eyes. You’re in need of sleep, I can tell by the time you’ve spent or rather have not spent in bed lately. And you need to relax.” Care seeped through her gaze, into him.

He took a deep breath in preparation of a long monologue of arguments why she was wrong, why he couldn’t do as suggested, but that was as far as he came. His body supported her argumentation, agreed with her, screamed at him to realise that he wouldn’t get anything done today anymore. So he released the air again, feeling a little bit stupid for even having made the attempt.

“Don’t,” she ordered, pleaded softly, being well acquainted with him and his way of thinking to know he was mentally slapping himself. Tenderly, she laid a hand on his cheek. “You need to give yourself some time to relax, love. You can’t go on like this.”

Overcome by tiredness, he closed his eyes, relishing the loving touch of his woman, his bitch; who lots of people around the LAPD disrelished, hated even, thought of as an unfeeling, cold pain in their collective asses. An opinion he didn’t share – not anymore. By now, he knew what lay behind the façade, knew of the pain that had shaped her, knew how much the bad-mouthing of their fellow officers hurt her. It was one of the reasons for her pet name. He wanted her to feel something else than hurt when she caught somebody calling her that again, wanted her to associate him and their good times with it. With that in mind, he had made it a game to call her the latest nicknames he had heard concerning her when they were sweaty, naked and in a clearly compromising situation, although his doing so often ended in a giggle fit. Seeing her that carefree was worth every mood crashing. When he moaned “my wicked witch of the west” into her ear not that long ago, she hadn’t stopped laughing for a long time, and he hadn’t been able to do anything but laugh with her, only stopping occasionally to drink in the sight of her delectable, naked body shaking with mirth. He called her cute. She called him delusional. A ritual of affection.

And affection was what he felt right now as he looked at her. Her hair in a slight disarray as it always was at the end of a day due to her running her hand through it when lost in thought, her lipstick as good as gone for she never bothered to reapply it at this late hour when all she planned to do was go home, her eyes resting on him with a love he sometimes wasn’t sure he deserved, he was overcome by the urge to pull her close, to cuddle her.

Just what exactly would keep him from doing so? Nothing, to be honest. With a smile, he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured before kissing her slowly, softly, deeply, realising how long it had been since he had last taken the time to bestow any loving touch upon her that exceeded a short kiss in the morning before leaving for the office. Having neglected the woman he loved ashamed him.

“You better be.” She grinned.

“Bitch.”

“I missed you.” She pressed her lips against his while loosening his tie, dropping it on the floor next to the chair. Thankful he had taken off his jacket some time earlier, she then began to unbutton his shirt after unfastening his suspenders.

“Sha...” She interrupted him with another kiss. However, he took her face in his hands and pulled her head back, tenderly but insistent.

“Love, stop. Let’s go home.” His thumbs caressed her jaw, her cheeks.

Smiling, she lightly shook her head. “No. Once I get home, I might manage to shower before I hit the bed. Nothing else. And this office hasn’t seen enough action lately, and neither have I or you, for that matter. So you just relax and let me take care of the rest.” Her smile became wicked.

“That hardly sounds fair, don’t you think? You doing all the work when you’re obviously as knocked out as I am.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, caressing his bare chest. “I think I’ll manage. But of course, if you’re not interested...” Her expression turning it a pout, she slid off his lap, getting out of his reach before he could grab her.

The discontent, the frustration displayed on his face at her removing the carrot she had dangled in front of his nose seemed to amuse her for she couldn’t suppress a giggle.

“Cute.”

“Delusional.”

“Bitch.”

“Honey.”

At that, he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. Hearing Sharon say one of those overly sweet pet names always cracked him up.

With outstretched arms, palms up, he invited her back into his embrace. And she came willingly, but only after pulling her shirt over her head, throwing it uncaring over her shoulder. His eyes widened with desire at her move. His bitch in his office in only a black bra whose lacy material made it sinful despite the comfortable cut and one of her expensive business skirts skyrocketed his arousal. He knew she wore such pieces under her suits, but to be reminded of that fact in this fashion almost made him slingshot out of his chair to jump her bones. She was sin personified.

Swaying her hips, she sauntered back to him, allowed him to pull her astride on his lap. Her skirt slid up in the motion. The bared, creamy thighs beckoned his hands to caress them, to knead them.

As his fingers roamed her skin, she hummed in joy. A sound that had equally surprised and pleased him the first time he had elicited it from her. While he hadn’t thought her uptight in bed like some of their fellow officers most likely did given her behaviour on the job, he hadn’t expected her to be a kitten either. He had to be wary, though, because his kitten had claws and could turn into a wildcat in the blink of an eye.

Stroking up and down her thigh, his fingers moved further and further upward, nearer and nearer to her lace-veiled sex. Teasingly, he only graced her there with his fingertips, again and again, always retreating after a fleeting touch. A hard bite to the crook of his neck the next time he moved his fingers in the direction of her knee made him yelp.

“Stop teasing, Will.”

“Tease? Me? Who wandered in here, dumping part of her clothes, sitting down on my desk and giving me all kinds of indecent ideas?”

“Yes, you, Will Pope,” she said ignoring his last comment. “You tease.”

“And you don’t, hm?”

“Of course not. I bitch.” She lightly tweaked one of his nipples.

He laughed. “That you do, love. That you do.” Friskily, he planted a soft kiss onto her nose. However, before he could pull away, she put a hand on the back of his head to hold him in place to attack his mouth with hers, assaulting it with her tongue, kissing him hotly, deeply, leaving no doubt of what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her. The kiss blew away the last bits of exhaustion and fatigue. He might fall asleep right there and then once this was over, but it would be worth his last bit of strength.

He cupped a breast, fondled its hard peak through the thin fabric of her bra while his other hand mimicked the motion at the apex of her legs. She leaned her head back, moaning in delight. The new angle of her head displayed her neck invitingly. Unable to resist the temptation, he began to place breathy kisses onto her neck. At times, he was overcome by the foolish notion to mark her there for everyone to see. He knew better, though, knew that the rumour mill would reach unknown heights if ice queen Captain Sharon Raydor was spotted with a hickey on her throat, and she didn’t need any more bad-mouthing behind her back. Thus he had learned to restrain himself and put his marks where they would be concealed by her prim and proper suits. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help himself, had to playfully bite her if only to hear her grumble in disapproval.

His fingers below her skirt sneaked under the lace cover to feel her wetness without any barriers, to penetrate her. Meanwhile, his mouth moved lower, along her collarbones, further south to her breasts. Since her bra perturbed his access to her supple flesh, it had to go. In a practiced move, he unsnapped its closer behind her back with one hand, and thanks to her cooperation, the garment hit the ground some seconds later when he was already suckling at one of her nipples.

Impatiently, she attacked his clothes, tugged his shirt from his trousers, unbuckled his belt, opened button and zipper. As soon as she had managed that, one of her hands slipped into his briefs, palming his hard length.

His body froze for a moment, a groan passing his lips at the touch that was as sure yet loving as it was undoing. As he felt her skin against his so intimately, he realised how much he had missed it, them together, found it almost unbelievable that he had allowed work to rob him of that, of her for as long as it had. He needed her; he needed her now before he embarrassed himself by coming on her hand in his pants like a teenage boy.

Driven by the longing to feel more of her, he pulled at her panties, trying to move them aside, out of the way, no matter how. Suddenly, Sharon pulled her hand from his pants and jumped off his lap.

“No way,” she stated.

“Huh?” Confusion was written all over his face.

“No way you’re going to destroy another pair of panties. I happen to like these.”

He felt himself blush at her reminding him of the underwear he had shredded in his quest to fuck her all the way to the moon and back. He still owed her a pair of flimsy silk.

Before he could utter one word of defence or excuse, she stepped out of the piece of clothing in question.

“Pants down, Chief,” she demanded in her best official no-nonsense voice, causing a shiver to run down his spine for he had a love-hate relationship with that tone used in the bedroom or wherever, whenever else they found themselves in a situation like this one. Associating that special timbre she often used on duty with her sweaty and naked didn’t do anything to help to keep his attention and concentration on the job whenever she was around.

Deliberately slowly, she put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to follow her order. Just as she had known it would, the stance drew his attention to her chest. Typical male, she had to giggle at his reaction. So predictable. Wetting a finger by sucking at it a few times, she then trailed it along her torso, down between her breasts, circling one breast, narrowing the circles till she reached the hard bud, continuing to play with it, she repeated the motion with the other hand, somehow amused by the fact that his gaze followed her every move.

“Your pants, Chief?”

“W-what?”

His obvious bafflement drew a giggle from her throat.

“Your pants. You wanted to take them off, honey.” She winked at him.

He shook himself out of it, slightly embarrassed at having been distracted that easily. A moment later, though, he had pushed his pants and briefs down, and she crawled back onto his lap, sinking down on his erection as she seated herself. They both moaned out at the merging of flesh, relishing the sensation of feeling the other that close again. It hadn’t been that long, but time was relative, especially where matters of the heart were concerned.

Hips unmoving, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her digits dancing over his back under his shirt, and kissed him with all the desire and love she felt for him. With equal fervour, he returned the kiss, inviting her tongue for a dance as he traced her curves with his hands. Under his ministrations, she melted against him, humming, moaning, pressing impossibly closer to him. Occasionally, her inner muscles contracted, lightly squeezing his member, making him groan. He wasn’t sure whether it was an involuntary reaction of her body or something she did on purpose, but after another more forceful squeeze, his need took over his body and demanded it be served, satisfied. So his hands cupped her buttocks and urged her to move.

Moaning loudly as he kneaded, pinched her ass, she slowly started to undulate her pelvis. Partly due to his faster rocking hips, partly due to her own desire, things soon sped up. As they did, she put some distance between their upper bodies, pushing him back in his chair with her hands on his shoulders. Harder and harder, she rode him, her swaying breasts oozed an allure neither his eyes nor his hands could resist. Keeping one hand on her behind, he cupped one breast, toying with its nipple while watching the other swing freely with her body’s movements.

Her sounds intensified, got louder, more breathy, even more so when she relocated one of her hands from his shoulder to where they were joined, rubbing her clitoris.

His gaze followed her hand. He loved her like that – uninhibited, shameless, wanton; the complete opposite of the image that most people had of her. It made him proud and possessive that she had trusted him enough in the first place to reveal this side of her to him, that she was comfortable enough with him to let go completely.

Between all the stimuli – sight, sound, feeling – it didn’t take much longer for him to come under her. She intoxicated him, had the power to make him forget everything but her, undid him in a way he had been unprepared for when he had first started to fuck her. Their affair had turned into something he hadn’t expected it to. A few fucks – or maybe a few fucks more – to scratch a mutual itch was all he had wanted out of their liaison. To discover he could love her, to love her was a surprise, something he hadn’t thought he had in him. And yet, he wouldn’t have it any other way anymore. She had freed his heart by binding it to her and giving hers in return.

In his haze of orgasm, he watched her take from him what she needed, watched her throw herself over the edge of bliss, watched her climaxing hard on him, her body flushing, trembling.

She sought out his eyes and grinned. “God, I needed that,” she stated still panting.

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her heartfelt statement. “Glad to be of service, Captain.” Tenderly, he pressed his lips against her.

Cuddling, they remained where they were for some minutes longer until she started to shiver as her body cooled down.

“Do I really have to move?” he asked lazily when she climbed off his lap.

“Unless you want your secretary to find you with your pants down at your desk in the morning, yes.”

“Bitch,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Love you, too.”

While she collected her clothes and began, to his disappointment, to cover her delicate skin, he slowly did the same, buttoning up his shirt, pulling up his pants. By the time he was done, she was already waiting for him, looking as perfect as she had when she had entered his office earlier. The only differences were the twinkle in her eyes and her hair that was a bit more tousled. He loved it that way. There was something undeniably cute about Sharon with dishevelled hair. He couldn’t wait to wake up next to her tomorrow to be greeted by that sight. However, for that to happen, they had to make it home and to bed first.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, unlocking the door.

Since the corridors were empty, he allowed himself the luxury of putting his hand on her back, slightly above her ass, as they made their way to the garage. There had to be some advantages to working late after all.

 

= End =


End file.
